Broken
by The Unlikely Lass
Summary: The Inquisitor began life as nothing more than a humble Circle mage, but after a fate encounter with the Warden her life was turned around. An apostate, a healer and an assassin all rolled into one. But upon leaving the fade she has no recollection of who she once was or what had brought her to the Conclave that fateful day.
1. Prologue

**-12 years ago-**

It was the screams that woke her. Living in the tower, it wasn't an uncommon thing to be awoken in the dead of night by the nightmare of a fellow mage. Usually it was easy to ignore, they were so common it had become second nature to simply return to sleep without so much as a seconds thought. Tonight though was different. Rumour had it that tonight some of the Circle's most elite mages were gathering in the utmost reaches of the tower to decide on where the Circle's alliance should lie.

Somehow, Teyrn Loghain had managed to sway the support of a great number of mages to his cause. Had Wynne and her apprentices not returned from Ostagar to condemn the man, he would have likely won an outright victory. Now it fell to the First Enchanters Uldred and Irving to battle it out as to whether they should continue to encourage the Regent or instead offer loyalty to the Wardens.

So when the screams sounded that night, Romy couldn't help but take notice.

Never before had she heard anything like it. Thirteen years she'd spent lying in a Circle bed and never before had the voices belonged to so many for such a long time. The sound reverberated along the stones of the tower, seeming to grow in strength as they finally reached her ears, gaining more momentum from the mass of people, all of whom screamed as though they were facing their final moments.

She couldn't bare it any more. Romy frantically shot up to her feet, racing across her prison to the door, crying out for any of the Templars that might be guarding her door. Soon, beyond the noise, came the rugged sound of keys being twisted and turned as their owner desperately searched for the one that could open the lock.

Ser Baven was likely once a handsome man, but in the recent years his face had taken on the tell-tale trademarks of lyrium addiction. His pallor matched that of a ghost, his eyes were hollow and vacant and even his night black hair seemed to drain of colour. "Ser Baven," Romy asked as the Templar threw open the door, "I heard the screaming. What's happening?"

In an instant, his already frustrated face contorted even further in disgust as he thrust an accusing finger towards her. "Was this your doing? Had you planned to do this all along, you and Jowan?"

Romy took a step backwards. Ever since Jowan escaped, both Templars and mages alike looked on her with scorn and mistrust. The people she had called her friends found excuses to avoid meeting her and when anything went awry the blame seemed to be pinned on her. In spite of that, it had never gotten any easier being the focus of everyone's negative attentions. She let out an exasperated sigh, "Done what?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know. Your kind are killing any Templar they can get their hands on."

Romy's mind stopped as she tried to process what he was trying to tell her. What … how… "But why-"

Baven interjected, "you're all filthy blood mages." He quickly drew out his sword, attempting to close the distance as Romy stared on in a bewildered panic, "the Circle should not exist, your kind should be put to death as soon as you can start wielding magic."

For a second Romy moved to try and assuage his fear, that they had lived in peace for so long without too great a problem. Baven, however, had other ideas and could not bring himself to listen to any more of the traitor's words. With a heavy grunt, he lunged towards her, swinging his sword haphazardly.

With a second to spare, she managed to throw herself out of harm's way, ricocheting off a bookcase to safety. In a blind haze of panic she shot out her hands uttering the first spell that came to mind, a paralysis jinx she had only read about. A jet of red light erupted from her hands and threw Ser Baven's limp body several metres away, to the other end of the room. He barely had time to collide with the floor before Romy had run to his side.

"B…Baven?" Romy quietly muttered, gently shaking his shoulders. For a horrifying moment she thought she'd overdone it, killed the poor man. The guilt was quickly welling up inside her. Never before had she so much as endangered another person's life and even if the man was trying to kill her, he didn't deserve being so violently assaulted. As she scrambled back, the slow and very weak movement of his chest caught her eye. It was barely noticeable, but still it was enough to reassure her that she hadn't killed the man. Breathing a sigh of relief Romy edged towards the door.

Something was wrong, very wrong. After Jowan she'd been relocated to the Templar's wing to undergo constant supervision should it turn out she too was a blood mage. In all that time she'd never heard nor seen the place so empty. There were always Templars about.

Romy pushed away the few strands of golden hair that had worked themselves loose of her bun, whilst in the fray. If she stepped out, they could probably have her killed but at the same time … what else could she do. It seemed that the screams were getting less frequent yet they were somehow becoming more desperate.

She wasn't sure where she was running to, but it seemed her feet knew. In a matter of minutes she found herself stumbling through an open doorway into the main gathering point of the first floor. There stood a good half of the Circle, all of whom appeared to have suffered some way or another and several of which were sporting nasty wounds.

Across the room, her eyes locked with the Captain of the Templars at Kinloch Hold. As he emitted a low growl, it drew the attention of the silent crowd, who all turned in unison to see Romy edge further in. The horrified stares of her fellow mage drew her eyes to her arm that was thinly covered in a layer of blood. Almost as soon as she noticed the nick across her forearm did a pain shoot through her body. It amazed her that she had not noticed it before, it was deep and had slowly run down her arm, warm and sticky. Before she could fully return her gaze to the Captain, her peripheral caught sight of those around her edging towards their weapons.

Quickly raising her arms in a mock surrender, she cried out "I swear I'm not a blood mage. Ser Baven just tried to kill me." Whilst nobody proceeded to attack her, many hands wavered unable to trust her. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood there locked, unwilling to do anything.

It was Wynne who finally broke the impasse, moving her way across the crowd from the young child she had been comforting. Her motherly eyes met Romy's own bloodshot grey ones, "I believe you dear." Romy almost let out a laugh with relief. Of course she did, that woman had tended to her since she had been a child.

"I'm glad someone does."

**AN: Anyhow, I got pondering what would happen to the alternative potential Wardens if they survived beyond the Origin story and so this story was born. I like to think that all 7 potential Wardens were born for greatness and so I decided to run with what could happen for the mage.**

**Alongside this I'll be sorting out a playlist so each song should work out with one chapter. ****watch?v=mTwjUE60HG4&amp;list=PLecwzXKaemi-mlYRV-83STToGMFukPCcg**


	2. The Lost History of Romilda Amell

**-Present Day-**

"What _is your name?"_

Hours they'd been battling. Over and over again, Cassandra threw the prisoner question after question, accusation after accusation. And always she received the same strained reply: "I _don't _know."

Cassandra couldn't decide why she was deliberately withholding information. What had she to gain by lying? More importantly, what information was she protecting? If Solas hadn't been so adamant that she was the key to sealing the rift, she wouldn't have hesitated in exercising some force in order to have the prisoner reveal her secrets. But instead Cassandra was forced into trying to excise anything from her by persuasion, and she was failing miserably.

"Do you think that by lying you-" The prisoner let out a scream of agony as the mark on her hand erupted into a brilliant green light. It wasn't the first time Cassandra had seen it happen, in fact she had become rather accustomed to it. However, this was the first time the prisoner had been conscious for it.

They were running out of time. As much as it pained Cassandra, to leave not knowing anything more about the explosion at the Conclave, it was fast becoming her only option. The longer they left the breach open, the more likely it was that the prisoner was going to die.

"What was that?" The prisoner struggled to utter the words. She couldn't ever recall pain like it. It burnt like fire and coursed through her veins, attacking everything it could. But just as soon as it had taken it's hold, it left. As she turned her hand about in her manacle, she couldn't see anything special, anything that might cause it to emit light.

A hooded figure moved to stand by Cassandra. "We need to go."

"How do you suppose we have her reverse something she claims to have no knowledge about?"

"Show her."

The Nevarran gave a short knowing nod to the Nightingale.

As she opened up the lock that held the prisoner's hands in their chains, she uttered a threat: "_don't _do anything stupid".

* * *

The sky had been cleaved in two. Despite hearing Cassandra constantly refer to a breach, nothing could have prepared the prisoner for that. In her mind the breach was no bigger than a piece of parchment, like a window into the fade. Above her, however, lay a great, gaping chasm, radiating a brilliant haze of energy and mana.

"What _is_ that?"

"Have you not being listening? That is the breach. Whatever happened at the Conclave, whatever caused the explosion created that."

"You think I'm so powerful, that I created that?"

"I couldn't say. Now follow me, we'll meet Leliana at the forward camp." The two ran through the battlements, dodging the stares of the soldiers who barely tried to hide their obvious distrust of the prisoner.

All too soon without warning, a jet of green energy crashed through the bridge, tearing it down along with all atop it – including Cassandra and the prisoner. The latter landed awkwardly on top of a large slab of stone, sending a dull throb through her body and winding her in the process. Unfortunately she didn't have the time to address her likely broken rib, as Cassandra had drawn her weapon and was charging at something in the distance.

A hulkering great figure slid towards them, looking as though it was a composite of mottled flesh and disjointed leather armour. The stench hit the prisoner, accompanied by a wave of nausea. It smelt of rotting fruit and death. Whilst Cassandra had become somewhat accustomed to the demons appearing, the shade was the first time the prisoner had seen anything of it's kind outside of the Fade.

Instinctively her mind and body knew what to do. As she pulled herself away from the debris, her hands began to move in a precision flurry. Angry bursts of electricity shot from her hands, tearing away at their opponents whilst Cassandra manoeuvred around it, hacking away at anything that came within distance of her sword.

As the last of their opponents fell, Cassandra appeared before the prisoner, brandishing her sword threateningly. "I demand you stop using magic, _now_."

The prisoner let out a low laugh. She was fairly sure that she'd managed to take down a good few more shades than Cassandra but if the woman was so pig-headed that she wanted to still imagine her both a threat and an incapable fighter at the same time, she was content in taking a back seat. "Fine, I'll leave the angry hordes of demons to you then, just sit on the side lines and look pretty."

Cassandra floundered, opening and shutting her mouth like a cow chewing cud. Regardless of how much she loathed the idea of allowing the prisoner to wield her powers unchecked – posing a danger to all around her, she had helped. Needless to say, as a mage, she could have probably killed her without as much as a thought. She was forced to relent.

"I'll be watching you."

"And I you."

Their empty threats were cut short as the previous rift that had spouted the earlier shades, returned to life. The rift tore open, causing light beams to erupt themselves across the snowy battlefield. With each beam that formed, another shade appeared in its stead.

It was only as they recommenced the battle, that the two realised how drained the first battle had left them. They both ducked and weaved away from the onslaught, but they struggled to land the same calibre of attacks as they had done before. Still, they managed to reduce their numbers with relative efficiency.

That was, until the greater shade attacked -it had hid in the corner of the battlefield, seemingly waiting for it's time to attack. The prisoner stood metres away completely oblivious as it readied itself to strike a killing blow.

Just as the shade brought down it's fist towards the centre of the prisoner's skull, an arrow pierced through the centre of it's chest, causing it to erupt into a vile black ash. The prisoner stood staring wild eyed at the crossbow wielding dwarf that had suddenly appeared through the space which had once held the demon's form. He stood looking at his opponent with a smug grin on his face, carefully sliding his weapon back into place.

Then he caught sight of the woman. Whatever he had seen had clearly sparked his interest, and his face pulled up into a wide grin. "Tempest!?" he exclaimed with a long-forgotten warmth. Before the prisoner could question what he'd meant by such a strange comment, she found her hand seized by another's.

"Now is not the time," he yelled at his dwarven companion, "we must do this before it's too late." The bald-headed elf, dragged her without any explanation towards the green rift before them, throwing her outstretched hand into the emptiness. A cold wave shot over her, as she felt the very core of her being connect with the rift. Energy felt as though it was escaping out of her, flowing into the tear in space and as it did, the space in which it occupied shrunk. Shrunk into nothingness. And when the rift disappeared, the energy returned to her in a jolt.

_What had just happened? How?_ The prisoner turned to face the elf, eyes brimming with questions. In response, Solas gently tapped her right hand. "Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorised that mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

Clearly the elf was pleased with himself. And whatever he had done had clearly pleased Cassandra, who almost wore a smile as she ran towards the pair. "Meaning it could also close the breach itself."

"Possibly, it seems you hold the key to our salvation."

The dwarf let out a haughty laugh, "good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

Cassandra's eyes slit through Varric as though he was made of paper, any trace of happiness quickly gone as she recalled the presence of Thedas' least humble storyteller. "Why are you still here Varric?"

"Me and Bianca could hardly leave a fight. Anyway, this has the makings of my next novel, wouldn't want to miss it."

"No, I will not-"

"Your soldiers are losing ground, you need me." The prisoner sent the dwarf a sly smile. Her captor seemed to have spent the entire time they'd known one another giving in to the whims of others. She couldn't help but think the constant opposition couldn't have gone to a more deserving person.

The elf moved to close the distance between them, giving her a once over. "It's a pleasure to meet you now you're awake. I am Solas."

"He's the reason you're still alive Tempest."

* * *

They'd almost succeeded in reaching the temple when a familiar pillar of green light blocked their path. From the corner of her eye, she watched as her comrades brusquely armed themselves with their custom weapons.

The shades moved out from behind the rocks, raring into action. Before she'd even had time to fully comprehend what was happening, an arrow whirled past her left ear and straight into the shoulder of the nearest shade. Not more than a second afterwards, she watched as Solas directed a path of flames towards the largest of the to creatures, quickly followed by Cassandra throwing her sword about her head.

_Think._ She urged herself to do something. Unlike before, she was unable to readily call the magic forward. She couldn't think of one spell. Fortunately between the three of them, they were felling the demons with ease. Instead, the prisoner focused on the rift, trying to fathom how Solas and her magical glowing hand had shut it in the first place. She outstretched her hand towards the light, gently calling on her mana, trying to reforge the connection.

Just as the last of the shades was vanquished, she felt the same energy transfer as it had before. This time though, she was in complete control. She could feel the pushes and pulls within the fabric of the rift itself. She picked at the weaknesses with her energy, so when she retracted her hand, the rift collapsed in on itself with a small eruption.

Solas sent her a knowing smile – well aware of her new found ability. "Sealed as before. You seem to be getting quite proficient in it."

"Let's hope it works on the big one." The prisoner turned to face the dwarf, who was now staring intensely off into the distance. Making their way towards the group, was a broad warrior. There was something about him that managed to strike a chord, deep in the recesses of the woman's mind. She couldn't place it – like everything about her life it seemed. But she found it strange, for the first time in the hours since she regained consciousness she felt as though she was on the cusp of remembering something. And all because of a broad-shouldered, blonde haired soldier.

"Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done."

"Do not congratulate me Commander. This is the prisoner's doing.

"Is it? I hope-"

The Commander stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes connected with the flint of the prisoner's.

That face. He knew that face.

Any faint recollection the prisoner had was absolutely nothing compared to the sudden wave of emotion that rolled over the Commander. Those eyes stared hauntingly up at him, laden with confusion.

It had been over a decade since he'd last seen her and yet it looked as though the years had barely touched her. She looked a little more world-weary than before and was now sporting a large scar through her brow but she could have easily been mistaken for the eighteen year old girl he'd known all that time ago.

"Romilda?" he called out. "I … you …" he couldn't find the words. How could he? They'd not parted on good terms. In fact, the last time they'd seen one another he'd proclaimed her an abomination, a sin against the Maker. And _she, _he let out a deep sigh, _she_ told him she hated him, that he was nothing more than a simplistic prig, a coward, someone who'd been brainwashed like all the other Templar's on their lyrium leash.

She was right: he was.

Not a week went past when his thoughts didn't turn back to her. Their words replayed themselves over, in the blackest nights and had tainted his perception of all mages for years. After all those years, her influence over him had weakened, to the point where he was now. He'd almost been set free and yet there she stood.

Cassandra searched the Commander's face, curious as to the outburst and the look of shock that had painted his face, even if only for a split second. "You know the prisoner?"

"The prisoner?" Cullen had to quell the small laugh that was bubbling beneath the controlled veneer he wore on his face. How typical of her. From the moment he'd stepped into Kinloch Hold, she'd managed to leave a wake of chaos in her path. Maybe if she had been less of a force of nature, he'd never have noticed her. Maybe she'd never have ended up in the Seeker's custody. A lot of maybes.

"I should have known, you've always been at the centre of these things," he uttered jovially.

Romilda's face contorted, the same way it had when she used to try spells beyond her capability: a mix of focus and annoyance. "I'm sorry, _do _I know you?"

_Oh_, the Commander thought to himself, _she remembers what happened._ She still hated him and even after all the time that had passed, she'd not forgiven him for all he'd said … all he'd done.

Cassandra's face lit up in annoyance. "The Prisoner is _claiming_ not to know anything about who she is, what she was nor why she was here. If you can, I suggest you fill in some blanks for us." He wasn't sure whether or not that was true. The girl who knew wouldn't have done something so petty, then again the girl he knew wouldn't have torn the fabric between realities and wiped out some of Thedas' greatest leaders. He had to remind himself that regardless of how unchanged she appeared, she would have changed. Twelve years was a long time for anyone, let alone someone who had run away from a life of captivity.

"Romilda?" he repeated. The name didn't register with the prisoner, didn't even seem to spark any cogs behind those silver steel eyes. He sighed, "she was one of the mages back at Kinloch Hold, under my charge."

The prisoner was unsure of what she was supposed to do or say. They spoke about her as if she wasn't there, whilst given her earlier treatment, she was grateful to be invisible, she struggled to comprehend that they were talking about her: Romilda seemed such a foreign name; Kinlock Hold sounded like it belonged on another universe, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not place where the man belonged in her life.

"Romilda, you say?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes, Romilda Amell."

"Amell? That name seems oddly familiar."

Varric set a frustrated glance towards the Commander. He'd hoped the Seeker wouldn't have cottoned on to that. "That's because Miss Amell over there is Hawke's youngest cousin," he interjected with a grimace.

As expected Cassandra whirled around to face him with a hard glare. "You didn't mention her _once_." He shot her a quick smile, oh if only she knew what he'd kept from her, she'd have his skin made as the Inquisition's banner.

"She wasn't part of the story you wanted to hear Seeker. Anyway, I met her for a grand total of a few days, seven years ago. I wouldn't really remember her if Hawke hadn't asked me to put some eyes out on her … before he disappeared."

"And Tempest?"

"She put the fear into ol' Bianca here when she started throwing her magic around. From what I saw, she's every bit as destructive."

"Oh sweet Andraste," the prisoner collapsed to the floor as the pain from earlier worked its way back around her body. It was marginally easier to bear than before but that didn't stop the beads of sweat rolling off of her as she fought against it.

Solas stooped down to help the Romilda get back on her feet. "First we must deal with the breach, then we can turn our attentions to who or what our friend here is."

The Commander rested his hand on Solas, gently moving him out of the way for a moment. "Where did you go?" he asked the prisoner softly, trying to avoid the prying ears.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. If she was capable of answering even one of their questions, it would be a large burden off of her shoulders. Yet, she couldn't. It stirred up a small feeling of guilt, it wasn't fair on him either. "I don't know."

Maybe there was some truth in her words. Cullen couldn't help but feel a twinge of both pain and relief. She didn't remember him, the long discussions they had about their favourite books and the antics of the other Templars and mages, nor the long nights in which they helped the younger apprentices prepare for their intermittent tests. Whilst the thought of that cut deep into his fibre, at least she wouldn't remember how much they'd grown to loathe what one another were.

"I'm glad you're okay Romy."

"Thank you … Commander."

"Since when did _you_ use titles?"

"It seems appropriate since I don't know your name."

"Cullen."

"It's good to meet you Cullen. If you'll excuse me, it seems I have a world to save."

And not for the first time in his life, he watched as Romilda threw herself into a likely fatal danger.

* * *

**AN: Oh, thank y'all for the niceties! Honestly I squealed like a little piggy when I noticed someone had followed/ faved. **** As you might have noticed I've stolen lines from the games, it's not something I'll be doing regularly but it seemed at the moment to be the most apt thing. Also, you might have noticed that I've skipped action + scenes from the game, that's for three reasons 1) there's gonna be a lot of it later on, 2) so it's gonna get really repetitive rather quickly if I always go into it and 3) I don't want to overload you with content.**


	3. Ribs and Ruins

_Romilda. Romy._ Regardless of how many times she turned the name over in her head, it refused to sink into her head. The dwarf and soldier seemed certain that was what she used to be known by, but it still seemed foreign. "Tempest." Perhaps they had it mistaken. "Tempest?" No, she doubted that highly, they both seemed sure in themselves – at the very least they were more certain than she could be given the current state of her mind. "Come on now girl, have I said something to upset you." It didn't really matter though, what was a name after all.

Romilda felt a hand gently thwack itself against her elbow, pulling her out of reverie. "Having fun in whatever little world you're in?" She could barely keep the grin off of her face. They'd known each other less than an hour and already she felt like Varric was a long-lost friend. She responded with a faint 'hmm', unsure of whether he would be interested in her internal monologue.

"Well girl, I think Cassandra's ready to get this show on the road." Almost as though she had been waiting for that moment, Cassandra threw open the large wooden doors that blocked the group from the ruins.

Before them stood a crater, caked in rubble and shattered stone. Whatever had once stood in the place before them, had been utterly decimated. Romilda rotated on her feet, trying to take it all in. Clearly whatever had caused the damage and the rift, held power beyond all comprehension – no normal mage could have managed half the destruction that lay at her feet.

Varric, however remained entirely focus on the hole in the sky, "the Breach is _a long_ way up." He raised an important point. Despite the fact the massive hole in the sky was obviously at a distance, it was a logistical problem she'd not even thought to consider up until that moment in time.

"I hate to state the obvious, but Varric's right. What are you going to do, load me up in a catapult and shoot me up there?" Cassandra shot her a warning glance, which Romilda was certain would have been far more intimidating if Varric and the red head from earlier hadn't broke out into laughter behind her.

Solas shook his head gesturing out towards the rift that lay in the centre of the crater. "No. This rift was the first, and it's the key. Seal it and perhaps we seal the breach." They could only hope he was right. Even as ludicrous as her earlier statement was, she had no doubt that if that line of action failed and Cassandra thought there was any chance that the breach could be closed at closer quarters, she'd launch Romilda into the sky without so much as a second thought.

Whilst Cassandra issued orders to Leliana, Romilda, Varric and Solas began edging around the temple walls. Jagged red crystals seemed to have permeated every hole, cracked through most of the outer walls. Like ivy, it was sneaking up and taking hold of the ruins. "Red lyrium," Varric informed them all with a grimace, "stay far away from it, and whatever you do, do not touch it."

As they descended the remnants of the stairs, to the crater, a booming voice reverberated around the ruins. "Now is the hour of our victory".

Romilda stiffened, there was something _wrong_ with that voice. It spoke with such unwavering confidence. "Don't get ahead of yourself, I need to close the damn thing first."

"That wasn't any of us." For the first time since their meeting, Varric almost sounded scared. Romilda halted. If he was worried, then shit was clearly hitting the proverbial fan. Cassandra pushed against the spine of her back, forcing her forward. Her mouth opened to object. However, before she could utter a single syllable, another voice cut over her.

This time, came the sound of a woman. She pleaded out in the nothingness. "Why are you doing this? You of all people?" It was Cassandra's turn to react. Though she kept moving the two of them ever closer, her face softened for a moment before wild panic set over. She gently called out the Divine's name as though she expected a response from the beyond.

"Keep the sacrifice still."

"Someone help me!"

As the voices continued, ghost-like figures began emerging from the rift. In front of them, a woman in Chantry robes was levitating several metres of the ground, circlets of red bind magic snaked around her arms and before her stood an indistinguishable shadow. The sound of doors echoed throughout the temple as a young woman came into view. "What's going on here?"

Romilda cocked her head curiously, that voice … it sounded like her. The woman was even wearing the same mercenary gear as she had. But like everything, she felt detached from the situation. That may have been her but it didn't resonate with any memory. She couldn't help but stare at the willowy figure as it began to process the scene before her, eyes darting between the woman and the shadow.

Unfortunately, it cut short too soon. The figures faded out into darkness, as the rift above it began animating out even stronger than before. Something about this rift was different. It didn't seek out her energy like the previous two. Instead, it rolled out towards hers, begging to be seized. She was unable to do anything else but oblige.

As the rift tore open, the earth below it shattered as a dense object fell from the sky.

There in the midst of the crater stood a demon, a good seven feet taller than any soldier there and whose eyes had locked onto Romilda. No matter where she ran, the demon trailed after her with Cassandra hot on it's heels. Solas had taken position atop a fallen pillar and was throwing balls of flames towards it with great precision. That was more than could have been said for the archer's stationed around them, who posed as great a threat to the grounded soldiers as the demon.

Varric succeeded in gaining the creature's attention for a few moments, as one of his arrows pierced through it's cheek. Whilst it took the time to let out an almighty roar, Romilda seized the opportunity to gain some height atop the rubble. She clapped her hands together, the mana inside her welling up. She let it grow in momentum, readying herself for the attack. However, just as she felt the sparks of electricity sizzle between her palms, a giant fist collided with Romilda's ribs, propelling her through the sky.

She must have flown for a good few seconds, but strangely she never collided with the wall that encased the ruins. Instead she felt herself being gently lowered on to the temple walls by an invisible force. She winced at the intense throbbing that radiated throughout her chest and couldn't help but taste blood as she attempted to keep herself steady. _This is not the time. Save world first, fix broken bones later._

It seemed for once, fate was in agreement. From the side-lines, she watched as Cassandra lunged at the beast, plunging her sword deep into the demon's chest.

"Now!" called Solas.

Again, Romilda threw her hand up into the air, watching as her hand lit up in a brilliant emerald. Unlike before, her hand worked on instinct, slicing through the rift as though it was butter. In response, the green crystal like structures exploded through the sky, setting forth a chain reaction. The tendrils of energy that linked the rift to the breach in the sky burst outwards, as they simultaneously repaired the fabric between Thedas and the Fade. As the last of the Breach folded in on itself, a violent jettison burst out, throwing all the nearby soldiers off their feet.

In fact, there was only one person not to be affected by its closing, and that was because Romilda had collapsed amongst the ruins long before.

* * *

**I know I said it before, but my continued thanks go out to the people liking/ reviewing! It is rather encouraging. :) Apologies if it's not as good as the previous ones, I'm a little sleep deprived and trying desperately to avoid doing a lab write-up – I'll possibly rewrite this.**


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